


Cure For Crying

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Erotica, F/F, Fisting, Fluff, Lace, Oral, Romance, Shaw does have feelings and I will fight anyone who says she doesn't, Smut, damn these feelings, more feelings, shoot, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t need Her to tell me when something is off between us, Sweetie.”  Root reached up and caught the tear sliding down Shaw’s nose on her index finger.  She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around her finger, sucking lightly.  “Mmmm.  Tastes like you, Sameen.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure For Crying

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first Shoot fic. . . I’m starting it as just a drabble, or three, to dip my toe into writing this ship, this glorious, amazing ship. This isn’t in sync with canon, so if you notice anything that seems OOC, or off, just go with it. I like to bend and pose my little dolls to suit my own will. Also, this will possibly be NSFW, depending on where you work. Please let me know what you think! I love comments and find them highly motivational. So talk to me. Can I hear you? Absolutely.

_ “Love what you have, and you’ll have more love _

_ You’re not dying _

_ Everyone knows you’re going to love _

_ Though there’s still no cure for crying.”   _

_ \--  Firewood, by Regina Spektor _

  
  
  


It was impossible to tell the time of day.  Shaw’s room darkening shades did their job.  They had been a worthwhile indulgence in the otherwise Spartan apartment. Shaw could tell from the heavy relaxation of her muscles, and the ease with which she opened her eyes that she had slept well, and long enough.  She estimated that it was about 7:45 a.m.  

 

“My pretty girl,” Root whispered, her breath warm and moist on Shaw’s shoulder.  “My sexy, little robot baby.”  Her hands slid over Shaw’s sleepy body.  

 

“You’re awake?”  Shaw mumbled.  “What time is it?”  

 

“It’s a little after five.”  

 

Shaw huffed a gust of breath into her pillow, annoyed her estimation had been so far off, and that it was so fucking early, regardless of how rested she felt.  Normally she was more accurate.  “Uugh.  What are you doing up?”  Normally Shaw was up and working out long before Root’s eyes even fluttered open.  

 

Normally.    

 

“Well,” Root purred against the nape of Shaw’s neck.  “I was just thinking about how I could show my gratitude to my hero.  You were like the Terminator last night.  It was so hot.”  She stroked Shaw’s waist and then grazed her breast as she bit down on her neck, exactly in the spot she knew would normally send a thrill through Shaw.

 

The heat and teeth of Root’s mouth on her neck triggered Shaw.  But not in the way it was intended.    

 

It all came rushing back.  The day before.  Root.  Missing.  Samaritan.  The blood.  So much blood.  

 

It had been a fairly inconsequential head lac, but head wounds are gushers.  

 

She had told Root as much as she half-carried, half-dragged her out of the building, moments before the detonation.  They had both been blown off their feet and knocked unconscious.  Reese and Fusco had brought them back to the library.  Shaw regained consciousness first, and she stitched up the gash on Root’s head.  

 

Her hands had been steady.   

 

But her heart had raced, as though she had just run very far and very fast.  Adrenaline.  She had cleared her throat, taken a breath, shaken her head, and forced her body to settle so she could thread the needle through Root’s skin.  She passed off the racing heart as adrenaline.  

 

Because Shaw didn’t feel fear.  

 

She felt nothing.

 

She especially felt nothing as she tugged the needle through the delicate skin over Root’s temple.  She needed to feel nothing.  She didn’t want to leave a scar on that fair flesh.  

 

_ Although _ , she thought,  _ It has been said, scars are sexy.  _

 

Wherever did she hear that?  

 

_ Fuck it.  Whatever. _  She sewed Root’s skin closed.  

 

The bleeding stopped.  Root had opened her eyes and indulged in a morphine-soaked smile.  “Well, that was something.”  She had said and then Shaw had brought her home.  They took a cab.  Shaw was itching to burn off on the motorcycle.  Root never let her drive, and it would have been the perfect opportunity, but there was no way she was putting Root on the back of that thing in her condition.     

 

She brought her home.  They stripped down and passed out without even touching one another.  Shaw didn’t even have time to feel a pang of strange that Root hadn’t lavished her with kitten kisses and fawned all over her injuries.  They were both in pretty rough shape.  It had been a close call.   

 

Which brought them to this current moment.  Five something in the a.m.  

 

“Uh, you were unconscious and or concussed for most of it, so I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”   _ And all the blood loss and all the morphine.  How was this woman even awake right now?     _

 

“Well, lucky for you, I’m very good at filling in the blanks,” Root said in a squishy little voice that reeked of sex.  “I was thinking we could go all Terminator today.  There must be some robot toys somewhere for our play.  I’d ask Her to look on Amazon and Ebay for us and have them FedExed same day, but I know how you hate it when I talk to Her in bed.”  

 

“Whatever, Root.”  

 

Shaw rolled onto her back in bed, and Root took the opportunity to sneak her fingers into Shaw’s panties.  Shaw pushed her hand away.  

 

“I have to pee,” she said.  

 

“Mmmm, that could be fun,” Root sighed.  

 

“Uh, watersports, Root?  Not really our thing.”

 

“Well, trying new things is always good.”  

 

“I’m all set.  Thanks.  Besides, you likely have a concussion and should not jostle yourself too much.”  

 

“Well go pee and then come back and let me thank you.  I’ll do it so we don’t get too jostled.  Ooooh, or we could play doctor!  You know how fun that is.”  

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Shaw grumbled.  “We save each other’s asses.  That’s what we do.”   _ And then we fuck, _ she added in her own head.  She sat up and felt the ache in her shoulder where she had landed and subluxated it in the blast.  She rotated it a couple times to try and massage the muscles.  She scowled at the pain.  Root hadn’t moved from her spot in bed and she reached over to place her hand on the small of Shaw’s back.  

 

“Are you in pain?  Do you want me to get the oil and give you a rub?”  

 

“I’m fine.  It’s just stupid early.”  She stood up and walked to the bathroom, ignoring the pain in her right knee and left ankle.  

 

It had been a close one.

 

As she lowered herself onto the toilet, she thought about just how close it had been.  She relived the awful suck of the explosion, recalled the sensation of her lungs being squeezed from the pressure right before she lost consciousness, with Root, who was already unconscious and bleeding in her arms.  

 

_ Fuck, Root.  Fuck.  _  She had said.  She hadn’t had a chance to properly assess Root’s injuries.  There was just so much blood.  

 

Normally, close calls got her energy up in a good way.  Normally, she would feel a smug sense of satisfaction at barely scraping out alive from a situation.  Normally, she would wake up soaking wet the next morning and fuck Root until she begged her to stop.  

 

“Someone woke up cranky,” Root said as Shaw returned and flopped back into bed.  

 

“Someone woke me up at the crack of crack,” Shaw replied.  She rolled over and hugged her pillow.  She tried to sleep.  Really she did.  And normally, she would have been able to go right back to her dreams.  

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

_ “That felt a bit. . .  angry.”  Root said.   _

 

_ “Our sex is always angry.”  Shaw stated.  _

 

_ “Ok. I suppose.”  Root said.  She rubbed at the welt on her arm where Shaw had bit her, hard, and almost broke the skin.   _

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Root sat at the table.  Dinner was set.  She did not get up when she heard the keys in the door, unlocking a succession of locks.  

 

“There you are,” she said as Shaw appeared at the edge of the table.  “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home.”  

 

“Didn’t ‘She’ update you on my whereabouts?”  

 

“You sound angry,” Root said in a very matter of fact voice.  “And no.  You told me that it bothered you when I use Her to check up on you.  So, I didn’t.”  

 

“Well maybe there is honor among thieves, then.”  Shaw didn’t mean for it to sound quite as harsh and calculating as it did.  

 

“You know, Sameen, I am all set with this behavior.  You’ve been acting like a punk for a week, and you don’t even want me to punish you, so it has been completely no fun for me.  Any chance you want to tell me what’s going on with you?”  

 

“What?  There’s nothing going on with me.  I’ve been working.  Call Reese if you don’t believe me.”  She avoided watching the dainty and subtle progression of Root’s features as they went from perturbation to despair.  “What’s to eat?  I’m starving.”  

 

“It  _ was  _ coq au vin, but it is now a cold and gelatinous mess.  Heat it up and pour yourself a glass of wine, if you like.  I’m going to go and spend the night at my place.  Good evening, Sameen.”  The formality of her words and tone did not mesh with Shaw’s first name.  Normally Root said her name with a coy familiarity, a tenderness, as though it was a little, inside joke that teased of things to come.  But as she said it now, it fell flat.  Root rose from the table and scooped up her jacket from the hook.  

 

Normally Shaw would have shrugged it off and sat down at the table, tucked into the casserole, even cold as it was.  Normally Shaw would have tossed back a glass of red wine and then another so she could feel just a little fuzzy after all the sharp angles of the day.  

 

Normally Shaw wouldn’t be visualizing the needle of the syringe, poised just above Root’s corroded, with a shudder that rendered her momentarily blind.  Normally--  

 

“Root, wait.”   

 

Root stopped at the sound of Shaw’s voice, but she did not turn around.  Shaw approached her back, put her hands on Root’s perfectly postured shoulders.  She ran her hands down Root’s arms and then back up so she could slide the black, leather jacket off of her.  She tossed the jacket back in the direction from whence it came.  It landed in a quiet heap beneath the hook.  

 

Normally there would be words, something dirty and salacious, but Shaw found herself oddly mute as she encircled Root’s waist, pulled her back up against her chest, untucked her blouse and foraged underneath to fill her hands with Root’s flesh.  

 

As she felt the two hard pearls of Root’s nipples beneath the sheer lace of her bra, Shaw thought maybe this was where the shoving and biting should start.  But she pulled Root closer into her, the muscles of her arms flexing until she thought maybe she would bruise her.  And for some reason, she didn’t want that.  

 

It was confusing.

 

So, she gripped either side of Root’s blouse and tore it open, just for good measure.  Little buttons clattered and bounced against the floor in a very satisfying dance.  She let go of Root long enough to take off her own sweater and tee shirt, and then she peeled the ripped blouse off of Root.  

 

A series of greenish, purplish bruises from last week were healing along Root’s shoulders and torso.  And lower, on her forearm, a brighter bruise of red and violet where Shaw had bit her several days ago.  Shaw ran her fingers lightly over it, and then pressed into it ever so slightly until Root gasped in half-pleasure, half-pain.  

 

Shaw kept her left arm around Root, her left hand fondled Root’s breasts, and she lowered her right hand to undo the button and zipper of Root’s jeans.  She felt the heat of her mound through the lace of her panties.  Panties that no doubt perfectly matched her pretty, elegant bra.  Shaw slid her fingers down into the crease of Root’s thigh, pushed the lace of the panties to the side and tucked her fingers in.  She walked her fingers through the folds of Root’s labia, which were warm but not wet.  Shaw wiggled her fingers in a bit deeper to find that inside, Root was swelling with moisture, like honey in a hive.  Shaw caught some of it on her fingers and brought it out to rub over the nub of Root’s clit.  

 

Root had been standing, rather stiff, if acquiescent, in Shaw’s embrace.  When she felt Shaw flick through her to find where she was wet, she relaxed a bit.  But she had been upset, and she was still upset, and she was going to make Shaw work a little for it.  She closed her eyes as Shaw’s lips met with her shoulder.  Normally, this would be where Shaw would sink her teeth in until Root was close to tears, not that Root minded.  But tonight, Shaw was being abnormally gentle.  Her lips were hot.  She licked at Root’s shoulder, twirling her tongue on her flesh until Root had no choice but to turn around and capture Shaw’s lips with her own.  

 

They kissed soft and deep and then hard and then soft again.  Shaw shoved Root’s pants down and Root stepped out of them as Shaw did away with her own.  

 

“You didn’t wear underwear today?”  Root wondered.  

 

“Forgot,” Shaw shrugged.  

 

“Oh, Sameen,” Root whimpered.  She pulled Shaw into her own body, but even the sheer lace of her underwear between them was too much space.  She reached around and started to undo her bra, but Shaw grabbed her hands and stopped her.  

 

“No,” she said.  “Leave it.  You look so pretty.”  Root’s nipples were a deep rose under the delicate, ivory lace.  And Shaw had a feelings that things below matched as well, that they were getting all engorged and dusky.  “Go sit on the couch for me.”  

 

“And if I don’t?”  Root smirked.  

 

“Not tonight,” Shaw said.  “We’re not playing that tonight. Just go sit on the couch and spread your legs open for me.  

 

“Should I take off my panties?”  Root asked, as she walked over to the couch.  

 

“No.  Leave them.”  Shaw said.  As Root took her place on the couch, her slim legs open to about forty five degrees, Shaw poured two glasses of wine.  She brought them to the couch and handed one to Root, then took a seat on the ottoman, which she pushed back away from the couch across from Root.  “A little wider,” she said and Root accommodated her request.  

 

They sipped their wine, eyes wide and on one another.  Shaw folded her legs up under her, and she licked her lips as she gazed at Root.  Root raised an eyebrow, curious about what was happening, then realized she felt strangely hot in her core, simply from the way Shaw looked at her.  She opened her legs a bit wider, and leaned back into the couch, to allow Shaw a better view.  She wanted to take off her panties so Shaw could see how hot and red and wet she was becoming.  She squirmed.  She rolled her eyes and tried to exert a bit of pressure between her legs where the tingling was starting to go from sweet to unbearable.  

 

Shaw drained her glass and placed it on the nearby coffee table.  “Can I come over there and touch you?”  

 

“You know you don’t need to ask permission, Sameen.”  

 

Shaw took a deep breath and bit her lip as she lowered herself to the floor between Root’s legs.  She stroked up Root’s thighs until her thumbs were at the hem of her panties, inside the creases of her hips.  Root arched her back at her touch.  Shaw pushed her right thumb beneath the fold and slid it easily over Root’s clit which was by now nice and wet.  Shaw knew this would be the case, and yet issued a contented sigh anyway, half-excited and half-relieved that she was having the correct effect on her lanky lover.  

 

With her left hand she reached up and pulled Root’s face down to her own, kissed her deeply, bit her lips, as she slipped two fingers into her, stroked her inner walls, found and fondled the spot that made Root moan.  “Ah, ah, ah, of fuck Sameen!”  She whimpered against Shaw’s lips.  Shaw kept the rhythm steady and deep.  Shaw tried to memorize Root’s inner territory, tried to leave her fingerprints all up in there.  She lowered her mouth to Root’s lace covered breasts and sucked and nipped, loving the way the wet lace felt on her lips.  Root’s hips were bucking up off of the couch.  “Oh, god Sameen.  I’m. . .  oh. . .  I’m gonna. . .”  she could barely get the words out.      

 

“That’s it,” Shaw whispered into Root’s neck as she nibbled and licked her.  “Come hard for me.”  Root accommodated this request with another six thrusts and the addition of a third finger from Shaw.  Shaw kept her fingers inside as Root came down, felt every silken pulse around her. 

 

“Mmmm, that was nice,” Root moaned.  “Can I return the favor?”  

 

“I’m not done yet,” Shaw said.  She lowered her face to Root’s lace covered crotch.  She put her mouth over it, breathed hotly on it, and tasted the sweet and savory tang of Root through the thin fabric.  “I’m sorry I ruined supper before.  Can I eat you?”  Shaw looked up at Root whose flushed cheeks and swollen lips looked lovely.  Shaw wondered if she had ever noticed how actually beautiful Root was before.  How really and truly beautiful, like a psychotic princess assassin.  

 

Root had that curious look on her face again, eyebrow slightly raised.  She gave Shaw a little nod, and Shaw lowered her lips again to Root’s mound.  Instead of taking the panties off, Shaw pushed them to one side, so Root’s pussy bulged out of them at a slightly awkward, but very pleasing angle.  Her little thatch of hair glistened with arousal.  Shaw took her entire mound in her mouth and sucked on it, licking all of the juices she had made just moments before.  She flattened her tongue over Root’s slit and licked slow and heavy.  She looked up and saw that Root was looking down at her, her eyes lidded and heavy, her face full of lust and adoration.  

 

Normally Shaw would have flipped Root over and given her a good spanking for looking at her with such a lovey dovey face.  Maybe inserted a vibrating egg into her ass, or fucked her doggy style and hard with a strap on.  But as she flicked her tongue into Root’s warm, wet folds, she found that she didn’t mind all that much.  

 

Root reached down and stroked Shaw’s hair.  “Such a good, pretty girl,” she whispered as she rotated her hips in time with Shaw’s tongue.  “My sweet girl.  Oh.  Oh my.  Yes.  Mmmm.  Oh Sameen, touch yourself for me.  Ohhhhhh.”  

 

Shaw put a hand between her legs and found herself sticky and swollen with arousal.  She had been so focused on Root she had hardly noticed her own engorged pussy.  She stroked herself and knew it was getting Root close to the edge again to watch her.  She was very visual, her Root.  

 

_ My Root?  What the fuck?  _ she found herself wondering as she rammed her fingers into herself.  

 

Everything.  Root under her tongue.  Root’s eyes watching her fingers fuck herself.  The delicate lace of Root’s panties that were now sopping wet and pungent with her spicy aroma against Shaw’s nose as she licked and sucked and drove her tongue as deep as it could possibly go into Root, pushing Root’s legs as far apart as they could go and then draping them over her shoulders.  She was close, but she held off because she wanted to come with Root.  

 

_ Again.  What the actual fuck?  _

 

She looked up.  Root looked down.  They didn’t even need to speak as they both came, hard and wild for each other.  

 

Shaw climbed up onto the couch and put her head in Root’s lap.  She curled on her side and Root stroked her hair.  

 

It crossed Shaw’s mind that she wouldn’t mind dying just like this.  

 

If she had to die.  

 

For a long time, they didn’t speak as they let their hearts and breath settle.      

 

Finally and naturally, Root spoke first.  “Well, that was different.”  

 

“Shut up,” Shaw said.  As soon as she heard Root’s voice, she saw the needle poised over her neck.  She thought again, as she had over the past week, how bizarre it was that they were going to give Root such a boring and anticlimactic end.  After everything.  It was almost as bizarre as the fact that Shaw was perfectly sated after only coming one time, and by her own fingers.  

 

“It was so. . .  gentle.  Kinda’ weird.”  

 

“Our sex is always weird,” Shaw sighed.  

 

“Well, I forgive you for ruining dinner, anyway.”   

 

“Cool.  But I think you ruined my couch.”  

 

“I’ll buy you a new one, Sameen.”  Root said.  She caressed Shaw’s head where it was nuzzling against her belly.  

 

“Don’t even think about it.”  

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

  
  


The dreams continued for another week.  

 

And then a week after that.  

 

Shaw worked on as many numbers as she possibly could.  She attempted to work herself into oblivious exhaustion so that she might sleep perchance  _ not  _ to dream.  It was that needle.  Every night.  It hovered over Root’s pale neck, but in the dreams, Shaw was too late.  She couldn’t save her.  

 

She would wake, sweaty and panting at all hours of the night.  She would roll over and force her way into Root, make her come again and again just to feel her heat pulsing around her fingers.  She refused to strap on the dildo.  Not a single one of them.  She wouldn’t have it.  She used her fingers or her fist so she could feel every little, slick vibration inside of Root. 

 

“Open your eyes and look at me!”  She commanded, as she slammed herself up to her elbow into Root, so she could assure and reassure herself that there was life behind them.  

 

Finch told her she looked tired.  Shaw told Finch to pound sand.  Except she told him in slightly more colorful language.  

 

Reese rolled his eyes and gave her a sideways smirk when her temper was slightly more ill than normal.  

 

Fusco threatened to take a swing at her.  

 

“We’re just worried about you, Miss Shaw,” Finch sang.  “Please go home and get some rest.  No more numbers for you until you get a handle on whatever ‘this’ is.  You place us all at risk when your loose cannon is firing in such rapid succession.”  

 

She slunk back to her apartment in a foul temper.  Root was there.  Waiting.  

 

“I heard you got grounded, Sweetie,” she said.  

 

“Oh, and where did you hear that?”  

 

“Harold called me to give me the heads up.  Do you want to talk about it, Sameen?”  

 

“ _ Do I want to talk about it _ ?  Have you fucking met me?”  Shaw snapped.  

 

“As a matter of fact, I think I have met you, although you have been almost unrecognizable lately.  That was your hand inside of my pussy this morning, was it not?  Yes, I believe we have met.  But this version of you has me concerned.  It has us all concerned.  You’re working yourself sick and you seem. . .  upset?  Bordering on unhinged in fact.”  Root sat down at the table and watched Shaw pace the kitchen.  “Not to mention,” she risked adding, “You are disrupting my beauty sleep.  I mean I love fucking you, Sameen.  I really love fucking you.  But a girl’s gotta’ sleep sometimes.”  

 

“Noted.”  Shaw said and scowled at Root.  

 

“And, Sweetie, we need to switch up the repertoire.  All of this fisting is going to stretch me out beyond recognition.”  

 

“Also noted.”  

 

“Could you please tell me what is going on?”  

 

“Nothing, Root.  It’s nothing.”  

 

Root stood and stopped Shaw from pacing.  She wrapped her arms around Shaw’s waist and kissed her forehead.  “Why must you be such a difficult, little brat?”  Root asked.  Shaw didn’t answer.  She rested her head against Root, and allowed Root to stroke her hair.  “Is this about that thing a couple weeks ago?”  

 

“That  _ thing _ ?  Oh, you mean that  _ thing _ where you were kidnapped and almost murdered by Samaritan?  

 

“That’s the one,” Root said perkily.  “I know it goes against everything in which you believe or hold dear, Shaw, but if you talk about it, it might make it better.”  

 

Shaw pushed away from Root.  “I don’t think so.”  

 

“Well, we’ve got to do something with you because just trying to fuck it out is not working very well.  For either of us.”  

 

“Shit, Root.  I’m not good at this kind of thing.  And anyway, I thought you were good at filling in the blanks.”  

 

“Well, let’s try.  I’ll help you.”  Root led her by her hand over to the couch and they sat down.  “Here,” she said.  “I’ll start.  It was scary for me too.  When I was sitting there, restrained, I thought I might never see you again.  I wasn’t really scared of dying.  But the thought of never seeing my pretty baby again was the saddest thought I ever had.  And that was what scared me, Sameen, how much I’ve come to adore your sour little face.  I didn’t know if you knew, and that scared me too, that I would die and take that to my grave without you ever knowing.” 

 

“I think your Big Sister would have gotten the message to me somehow.”  

 

“One would hope.  But what if she didn’t?  What if I never got to tell you?”  

 

“Well, you’re telling me now, so are we cool?”  

 

“Isn’t there anything you want to tell me?”  

 

Their bodies were angled toward one another on the couch.  Root reached out and took Shaw’s hands, squeezed them and then laced their fingers together.  

 

“You like me because I’m your robot, because I’m the closest thing to your beloved Machine that you will ever actually be able to fuck.  And that’s cool.  I get that.  But what if that isn’t all I am?”  

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t know.  Forget it.  Fuck it.”  

 

“No, Sameen.  Don’t do that.  You started to explain something.  Be a big girl and use your words.”  

 

Thinking she could distract her from the conversation that had started, Shaw pushed Root back against the sofa cushion, her hand rough against her breast.  She looped her other hand around Root’s neck and pulled her face down into a crude kiss.  “I know how you like it when I use my words, Root.  How you like it when I tell you all about how fucking hot and wet you make me.”  She bit Root’s earlobe, perhaps a bit harder than was necessary, and Root gasped.  Shaw growled into Root’s ear.  “You want to switch up our repertoire?  What would you like me to talk about tonight?”  

 

Root brought a gentle and cool hand up to Shaw’s cheek.  “Oh, Sameen,” she purred.  “I do like that.  But right now, I’m more interested in hearing about what you were just saying.  Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to be my sweet, robot fuck buddy anymore?”  

 

“No. I’m not saying that.”  Shaw sighed in frustration and turned away.  She got up, walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.  It was full of beer and a box of pizza, the age of which was dubious.  She slammed the fridge door shut. 

 

“Then what are you saying?”  Root had followed her.  

 

Shaw opened the fridge again and grabbed a beer.  She opened it and took a long swig.  

 

“There was a girl once, a number.  It was before you came along.  She totally understood me, after like only a couple hours.  It was actually kind of magical.  Shit.  Do I say shit like this now?  Anyway, she told me that it wasn’t so much that I didn’t actually feel things, but just that the volume of my feelings are turned down.  And it’s true.  Normally they are turned way down.”  

 

“Normally?”  

 

“Yeah.”  Shaw took another long pull on the bottle.  “Damn.  I need something stronger than this.”  She opened the cupboard and took down a bottle of single malt she’d pinched from Finch.  She yanked the stopper out and took a swig straight from the bottle.  She picked her beer back up in her other hand so she had a bottle in each fist.  “I’ve never been particularly scared of dying- or of anything- either.  And I know there is no way we are all going to make it out of this thing alive. That never really bothered me before.  It just. . .  got me thinking.  That’s all.”  

 

“Are you trying to tell me that you might possibly have. . .  feelings for me?”  Root approached Shaw and grabbed her wrist.  

 

“I don’t know.  Look, can we just fuck now?  I’ve had enough jibber jabber.”  She slammed down the bottle of scotch and reached up to fondle the buttons on Root’s blouse.  Root’s flirty smile faded into an uncharacteristic frown.  She touched the bandage on her head.  It was smaller than it had been a couple weeks ago, but the stitches had not yet come out.  Had Shaw not known Root better, she would have sworn her black tipped fingers were trembling.  “Hey,” she said.  She set down her beer and reached for Root’s hand.  “Are you in pain?  Dizzy?  Let me check the bandage and give you a quick neuro exam.  You could still have a concussion.”  

 

“Why, Sameen,” Root murmured.  “You do care.”  She smiled, but her face had paled and there was a crease between her eyes.  

 

“Of course I care, jackass.”  Shaw took both of Root’s hands in her own.  “Squeeze.  Good.  Now follow my finger.”  She moved her index finger in front of Root’s gaze.  Root’s eyes followed as directed.  “Good.  Touch your nose.  Middle finger to thumb.”  Shaw watched Root perform these tasks. “Don’t you smirk at me, Root.  Just because I don’t want you dying next to me from a brain bleed in our sleep. . . “ Her voice trailed off.  She turned back to her bottle of beer.

 

“And if I did die next to you in our sleep?”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Root.”  

 

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”  

 

“Isn’t that what we do, Root?  Isn’t that what all the latex and paddles and harnesses and costumes are about?  Isn’t all we do pretend?”  

 

“Well, we don’t have to.  In fact, I kind of like it when we aren’t.  Please don’t push me away because you are scared.”  

 

“Oh.  Is that what I’m doing?  Did ‘She’ tell you that’s what I’m doing?”  

 

“I don’t need Her to tell me when something is off between us, Sweetie.”  Root reached up and caught the tear sliding down Shaw’s nose on her index finger.  She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around her finger, sucking lightly.  “Mmmm.  Tastes like you, Sameen.”  

 

“You couldn’t possibly be turned on by this.”  

 

“Oh, but I am.”  

 

“Someone needs to make a pill for this shit.”  

 

“For what?  Crying?”  

 

“I’m not crying, Root!  What the hell?”  

 

“My pretty baby.”  Root encircled Shaw’s waist with her hands.  “My tiny, lovely girl.”  She looked down into Shaw’s face, which was tipped up, waiting expectantly for the kiss Root lowered onto her lips.  It was soft and sweet and when Shaw tried to bite and deepen it, Root backed off.  “Shhhh,” she murmured.  “There’s no cure for crying, Sameen.”  

  
“Well, you and Finch and your Big Sister should find one.”  The words came out husky, from low in her throat, and were muffled by Root’s lips and tongue and teeth.  And as Root allowed Shaw to deepen the kiss, make it fiercer and more rough around the edges, Shaw thought maybe this was it.   


End file.
